So he stood in the cold sunlight, shifting from foot to foot, irresolute, wishing he was smarter than he was, that he could think of a plan. Susan didn’t want to look at this handsome stranger and remember Rhea’s touch. The reins lay limp in her lap; the pony worked smart without them. She wiped a tear from the corner of one eye; without looking directly at her, the gunslinger took her free hand.
”“No,” Alain said. Like a little bud o’ silk, so it is. “I’ll offer your excuses. They’re words I mean to remember, boys.
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